A Pointed Difference
by Baron Zed
Summary: A self-proclaimed Random Omnipotent Being stops Taylor from triggering the normal way in the locker. The ROB offers her a different set of powers in order to make a difference, causing her to turn into a pseudo-Case 53 in public. Unmasked from the start she joins New Wave. Alt-power!Taylor.
1. Chapter 1: Changes

Worm was created by Wildblow. This is fan fiction.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** For those unfamiliar with Worm, it's a web serial about a girl named Taylor Hebert in a world of superheroes and supervillains. She wants to do the right thing, but society keeps pushing her down and pushing her into a corner. The world of Worm is incredibly dark in the since that the bad guys often win, but Taylor never gives up completely. This particular version will not be as dark as canon Worm.

* * *

I screamed until my throat gave out. I banged on the locker door until I exhausted myself. I vomited at least five times—mostly dry heaving. I cried until I was too numb to care any more. I ached all over from being cramped in the too-small locker. No one helped me—not during the seven hours of school or after. Time lost meaning to me—I thought the locker was a little bit darker and it felt colder, but it was hard for her to tell if it was just my imagination or not. I felt sick, and not just from the smell. The feeling of bugs crawling on me had long since stopped bothering me due to my delirium.

 _I would ease your suffering, child._

I started at the unexpected voice. It was kind, musical, ethereal, feminine, motherly, and a little bit mischievous. At least I thought it was a voice. A warmth filled me starting at my forehead and spreading throughout my body. My aches faded and I became able to think again.

"Who are you?" I asked. My voice sounded normal for the first time in hours.

 _I am called Elmindra._

"Are you a cape?"

 _I am not human—much less parahuman, child._

"What are you? Why are you helping me?"

 _Some have called me a goddess, others fae. For myself, I don't remember. I have existed so long that I no longer recall my origins. The most amusing of my titles, and the one that I actually prefer, is ROB._

"Rob?"

 _Random Omnipotent Being._ Elmindra sounded amused.

"Are you really omnipotent?"

 _No, child, but to many it seems that way_.

"Can you get me out of here?"

 _Yes. I can and will. I also have a gift for you, if you wish it._

"A gift?"

 _Yes. I wish to gift you with the power to make a difference._

"You can make me a cape?"

 _No, child. I cannot make you a parahuman. That is the domain of the parasite known to you as Scion._

"Scion? The hero?"

 _I would not call Scion a hero. He helps, but he does so out of boredom rather than desire, and ultimately, he intends to destroy your world._

"What!? Why?"

 _His kind initiates conflict. They gift shards of power to sentients so that they will use them, so that the shards will learn and improve themselves. Eventually, he will harvest them and use your world as fuel to power his voyage to a new world to infect._

"We need to tell someone!"

 _There are those among your kind that know and are struggling to find a way to deal with him as well as what you term "Endbringers." I don't know if they will succeed or not, but the odds are not promising._ Elmindra stopped speaking as Taylor processed what she had said.

 _I propose to give you the power to make a difference. You can pretend to be a parahuman if you like, but if you accept, you will rarely be able to pretend to be normal._

I hesitated. The "rarely be able to pretend to be normal" sounded slightly ominous. I steeled myself. This was my chance to be a hero!

"I don't care. I want to be a hero! I want to be a difference for good!" I exclaimed. I wanted to make Brockton Bay the type of place that no other girl would be shoved into a locker filled with refuse.

 _Would it make any difference to you if I told you that one of your principle tormentors is affiliated with the Protectorate?_

The Protectorate? None of my bullies were old enough to be actual members of the Protectorate, but the government hero team had a junior auxiliary called the Wards. They were limited to mainly training and public relations events, but they occasionally fought—especially here in Brockton Bay, where the heroes were so outnumbered. I doubted that Elmindra meant affiliated in any other way. As far as I knew, none of the local Protectorate had children. There were two female Wards: Vista, who was too young to be one of my bullies, and Shadow Stalker. The Ward's build and attitude matched up best with Sophia out of my three tormentors. I grew angry. How could they call themselves heroes if they let a bully like Sophia Hess join them? I clenched my fists and counted to ten mentally in order to calm myself.

"It doesn't make a difference to me," I said finally. "I still want to do good. I admit that it will probably affect how I do it though."

 _I am pleased to hear that. It may make a difference to you to know that only one of her superiors or colleagues, the case worker that is supposed to be monitoring her, has any idea of what has been happening here. However, her superiors in the Parahuman Response Team know what type of person she is and are too trusting or ambivalent to monitor her closely. For the most part the Wards and Protectorate members themselves are good people, if perhaps too trusting in the system. I want to emphasize that I am giving you this gift in order for you to do good regardless of what the law or society itself says._

Society and the law had failed me pretty spectacularly. I wanted to help people, but did not particularly care to protect the organs of society that maintained the status quo.

"Why me?"

 _I have been looking for someone in this world that has experienced great suffering, but has not succumbed to it. You, Taylor Hebert, have suffered greatly in the last year and a half, but still want to help people. You have kept to the values that your mother taught you and have not succumbed to the temptation to become a bully yourself._

"I'm not as noble as you make me sound," I whispered.

Elmindra chuckled. _I need someone good. I do not especially care about noble._

I blushed at the praise. "What did you mean earlier about not being able to 'pretend to be normal?'"

 _If you accept my gift, it will change your appearance. I will cause you to sleep while my energy suffuses you. You will wake up and free yourself while the halls are full of your peers. You will transform in full view of your schoolmates. Are you familiar with the term "Case 53?"_

I frowned and said, "Yes." Case 53's were the so-called "monster capes." They looked inhuman and had severe amnesia of who they were before they were found.

 _If you accept, you will have the appearance of an exceptionally beautiful and striking Case 53. However, you would not lose your memory or have their distinctive tattoo. In order to give you some stress relief and time off, I would grant you a limited shapeshifting ability so that you could appear as a normal human for about an hour a day. I will also remove the Shard of the parasite, to make you independent of him._

"Why so little time?" Taylor asked.

 _I want you to make a difference, child. You can't do that if you hide._ She giggled. _I want you to turn the parahuman world on its head._

I was slightly unnerved by the fact that the "ROB" was giggling. I thought about Elmindra's stipulations. I was a shy, introverted girl—which was one of the reasons the bullies had been so successful. My only friend had turned against me and become my primary antagonist, leaving me incredibly vulnerable. One of the main attractions for me about being a hero, was that the costume protected the hero from exposure of their private selves.

 _I want you to stretch and grow, Taylor. If you accept my gift, it will be challenging, but I believe you can do it._

"What happens if I decline?"

 _You would have triggered here in the locker if I had not interfered. At your discretion I can remove the Shard of the parasite or leave it. If I leave it, you won't trigger here, but may in the future. Be warned that triggering as a parahuman happens when you are under great duress. You would need to have another day approaching today in order for it to happen. I will put you to sleep and make sure the janitor finds you tomorrow morning. He will make sure you get to the hospital and are treated for your injuries._

"Didn't you heal me?"

 _I relieved your pain and symptoms only. If you don't accept my offer, it would be better for you if you weren't healed. That way they do not erroneously think you have powers._

"Do you know what my cape powers would have been?" I asked, curious.

 _Your shard calls itself the Queen Administrator. You would likely have been a strong Master type of some sort, but I cannot say for sure. The exact details of a parahuman's power depends on the circumstances surrounding their trigger and their thoughts and needs at the time._

"What powers will your gift give to me?"

 _I prefer to leave it as a surprise. I will say that you would have the potential to match an upper-level parahuman._

That both pleased me and made me a little nervous. I realized that I had already decided to accept. Perhaps it was vanity, but I wanted to make a difference in the world. I wanted to stop being the victim. There was only one thing that worried me—Dad.

"If I'm out as a cape, what would happen to my dad?" I asked. "I don't want villains to target him to get to me."

 _I will provide you with an artifact that will protect him by teleporting him to a safe place if he is in danger._

"Thank you," I said with feeling. "I'll do it."

 _I am pleased_ , Elmindra said warmly.

More warmth spread out from my forehead. I felt a brief squeal of pain and disappointment as a small pressure on my thoughts that I had never noticed before disappeared. I began to feel drowsy.

"Will we ever meet again?" I asked. I realized that I didn't even know what she looked like.

 _Perhaps, but if so, it will not be soon._

Just as I was about to fall asleep, I heard her say, _I should probably have warned you that many feel that I have an odd sense of humor._ She giggled.

A brief flash of panic enveloped me, but I was too far gone to stop from falling asleep.

* * *

My awareness reasserted itself quickly. I remembered the locker and the odd discussion with the so-called ROB. I was still in the locker, but it seemed lighter. I could hear chatter outside it. I reflexively pushed against the locker door with my back and it gave way. I tumbled into the hall.

As I lay on the floor, I glanced around. Some of my fellow students looked embarrassed. Some looked viciously pleased. Others looked at me with pity. No one moved to help me. I heard some snickers and name-calling—the tamest of which was "loser."

I was still covered in filth and sores, but I felt fine. My glasses had fallen off in the locker, but I found I could see even better than if I had them on. I felt more warmth pool in my forehead. This was punctuated by a light prick there and a gentle weight, which grew more pronounced, but still manageable. I reached up and felt a bony growth rising from her forehead. From what I could see and feel, a ridge spiraled around it until it came to a point. My horn's tip was just within the reach of my hands. I touched it and found that it had a _very_ sharp point.

One boy exclaimed, "Who does she think she is, Narwhal?"

Narwhal was a Canadian cape who was rather flamboyant and famous.

One of the junior bullies, a girl in my World Issues class named Julia, said, "I hope not. No one wants to see _her_ wearing only tight forcefields." She made gagging noises. Narwhal's most famous quirk was that she didn't wear any actual clothes.

My horn stopped growing at about two feet in length. After that, it began to glow. My injuries suddenly healed themselves and the filth on my clothes and skin sloughed off, leaving my skin and clothes spotless. My hair turned white. I felt a gentle itching in my legs. I sat up and lifted my pant legs. I could see white fur-like hair growing around my ankles and shins. Judging by the itching, it covered my legs all the way up to my hips.

I felt a pressure in my feet as my shoes became tight. Frowning, I took them off. My feet, which were still inside my socks had taken on an odd, stretched shape. Curious, I removed my socks. The white fur covered my feet as well, even the bottom. My big toes were completely gone. As I watched my pinkie toe and second toe retracted as my foot increased in length while becoming thinner. All four of my remaining toenails increased in thickness, but my third and fourth toes grew and their toenails expanded until they became hooves. My second and fifth toes tucked behind and above my main hoof toes. If I remembered right, they called those toes/toenails dewclaws. My hooves were a light cream color that was almost white. My ankle now looked more like a knee that bent the wrong way and the bottom joint of my two larger toes became my new ankle. When what used to be my foot stopped lengthening, the hair on it began to grow, becoming somewhat shaggy.

I was well-read enough to guess that I was turning into a unicorn of some sort, between the cloven hooves and the horn. I hoped that I retained my arms and voice. It would be inconvenient to not have them. I felt, however, strangely calm. I wondered if Elmindra was stopping me from freaking out.

I chuckled. The other students were freaking out enough for all of us. Most of them had fled, but there were still some sticking around, many of them filming me with their phones. Someone had fetched Emma and Sophia. My former best friend was looking on in fascination. Sophia sneered at me when she noticed me noticing her. The third of my tormentors, Madison, was nowhere to be seen.

The rest of my legs had started to change shape—my thighs started to swell. My pants were rapidly becoming too tight. I didn't exactly want to strip, but undid the button on my pants, to catcalls from some of the football team. It helped relief the pressure a little, but before long my pants were splitting at the seams. Strangely, I barely felt it. Denim is usually much tougher than flesh and it should be crushing me as my legs swelled. I wasn't sure if the protection from my clothes hurting me as I changed shape was a temporary gift or if I now had a Brute rating.

To my relief, the hair on my legs and hips was thick enough to protect my modesty, more or less, because my panties were about to give as well. The hair was almost as thick as it was around my ankles. I removed the remains of my pants and underwear, struggling to get them over my longer and oddly-shaped legs. My old feet was now longer than my calves or my thighs, which had each shortened as my legs changed. This gave me the appearance of having backwards-bending knees.

A pressure emerged in my backside. I rolled onto my side and looked behind me and saw a fur-covered tail snaking out behind me. My new tail looked like that of a short-haired cat. However, when it finally stopped growing, a white tuft of fur, like a lion's tail, sprouted from the end. I made it twitch, fascinated at having a new limb of sorts.

I rolled over onto my stomach and arched my back in order to loosen some tension that had built up there. My spine stretched and my torso grew; the new growth was covered in the same white fur. The growth pushed my upper body along the floor. Even though I couldn't feel any shifting of my organs, I could _see_ some odd shifting around things moved inside me as my lower torso didn't have any ribs covering it. The stretching stopped when my torso was about twice as long as normal, which looked decidedly odd. Nubs appeared on it about halfway down its length. The nubs grew into spindly limbs to my immense relief. It was now apparent that I was turning into a centaur of some sort. Hopefully my upper body remained human. I took great relief in the fact that Elmindra had said I would look beautiful.

My new front legs finished growing and my hips shifted—the weirdest sensation yet—causing me to pull my rear legs underneath my torso. My rear torso barreled out slightly as a second rib cage grew in. A shoulder-like structure grew in to support my "front hips" and my fur there grew shaggier—like a lion's mane, but not as long. I stretched my spine again as my front abdominal muscles tightened. I pressed my hands against them and found them much more solid than my old abs had been. I pulled my front half upright so that my upper body was vertical while my rear body knelt on four legs. When my rear body stopped changing, I stood on all four of my legs.

I looked at my lower half. My upper half was very flexible, allowing me to get a good look at most of it. My lower body was lithe and sleek and not particularly horse-like. My tail and hooves were also decidedly different than a horse's, but matched how some legends describe unicorns.

My upper body seemed too small, but no sooner had I thought that, my upper rib cage began to shift and grow. My remaining clothing began to feel tight, but not enough to burst. My spine stretched too, pulling my shirt up enough to expose my bare navel. The slight pudge I had developed was long gone and my waist even looked waspish due to the way it flowed into my lower half. I didn't have a visible "six pack" but when I moved my upper torso, I could see muscles rippling underneath the skin of my abdomen. My skin seemed paler, but more healthy looking. My breasts compressed against my bra as they grew slightly, which was uncomfortable, but not painful due to my suspected brute rating. My arms also grew slightly. I removed my hoodie and then reached around and undid my bra strap through my t-shirt, but left it on. I tied my hoodie around my waist.

I could feel the skin in my face stretching. I reached up and felt it. My nose seemed more delicate and my cheekbones were also different. Without looking in a mirror, the biggest difference I could tell was that my ears were pointed like an elf from a fantasy book.

I briefly thought my changes were done, but another set of nubs grew out near my spine, not far behind my forelegs. The nubs grew into hand-like structures with membranes connecting the fingers. White feathers grew out of my new limbs. After they were finished growing, I stretched my wings. My wingspan was too large for the hall, so I limited my stretching. I frowned. There was no way my wings could provide enough lift for me to fly. Maybe that was one of my powers?

Finally I could tell I had stopped changing. I looked myself over again. I was a combination unicorn/pegasus/centaur? That was ridiculous! Did Elmindra have the mentality an eight-year-old girl?

"Don't think this changes anything, Taylor," Emma sneered. "Now everyone can see at a glance how freakish you are."

"Yeah," Sophia added. "Don't think being a cape makes you strong, Hebert."

In the past I would have ignored them, but I was angry enough at what they had done to me that I snapped out while turning around, "Why would I even consider the opinion of a two-bit bully and a back-stabbing traitor to be worth anything?"

I was relieved to hear that my voice sounded mostly the same—maybe a little clearer. I was curious how breathing worked for me since I could tell that I had two sets of lungs. I concentrated and realized that both of my diaphragms were somehow in sync with each other.

I wanted to see what I looked like in a mirror, but was reluctant to venture into the bathrooms. I did not want to get cornered there. I decided to go to the office so that I could be excused to go home. If anyone had an excuse, I did—triggering in front of half the school!

"Don't turn your back on me, Hebert!" Sophia exclaimed angrily.

I felt something strike her rump, but it did not hurt, so I ignored it. The Brute rating must be a permanent part of my powers. I continued walking. Sophia continued to strike me.

"Don't ignore me, Hebert!" she shouted repeatedly as she struck me.

I smirked as I kept walking. My smirk slipped however as I saw the stares from my schoolmates and teachers. The halls were empty, but people were gathered in the doorways. Sophia gave up before I reached the office.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Capes in Worm are given the following categories in-story: Mover (transportation), Shaker (affect a wide area), Brute (strong and tough), Breaker (affect themselves), Master (control others), Tinker (build physics-defying gear), Blaster (shoot things), Thinker (know things), Striker (affect others through touch), Changer (change their own shape), Trump (copy, steal, or nullify other powers), and Stranger (make themselves hard to find via disguise or stealth). The categories are designed based on strategies on how to counter them. Capes often fall into several categories.


	2. Chapter 2: Figuring Things Out

The office secretary gaped at me.

"I'm heading home," I told her.

"Uh, okay," the secretary said. "Because of the horse thing?"

"I am only vaguely horse-like," I said rolling my eyes. I didn't know much about herbivores, but I did know that the odd and even-toed hoofed mammals were in completely different classification orders. "But it's been over a year since I gave up expecting a Winslow employee to show any type of understanding or compassion. I'm also leaving because I just spent the last 24 hours trapped in a locker filled with biohazards—which lead to this." I gestured to my new form.

I turned and walked toward the exit. I would need to be careful about doors. I estimated my height at almost seven feet tall now—if you didn't count my horn. It made me glad my horn pointed mostly forward, rather than up. I was also glad that I was a narrower than a horse-based centaur would be.

"Uh, Miss. . .?" the secretary called after me. "You need to sign out if you're going to leave school grounds."

I decided I was done with Winslow for the day. I'd never signed out before when ditching because of what my tormentors had done. Why start now? I didn't even know why I bothered to go to the office. I continued to ignore the secretary as I left the building.

I decided to run. Running on four legs was definitely different. I'd ridden a pony once for one of Emma's birthday parties back when she was my best friend. This was different in that my upper body was forward of where I had sat on the pony. My balance should be horrible due to the extra weight from my upper body; in fact, my neck should be incredibly sore from supporting the unbalanced weight of my horn, but neither of these were true. The inconvenient parts of my anatomy seemed to be nearly weightless. I wondered if that was due to my Brute power or something else?

The sidewalks were inconvenient due to low hanging trees and cars blocking it in places. I took to the streets like a bicycle. I wondered about horseshoes. I didn't think they would work because my hooves were cloven. At least there was a good chance my apparent Brute power would protect my hooves. I was thankful that the cold didn't bother me even though I still noticed it. Even the bare parts of my upper body handled the weather fine.

People stared at me, of course. I hoped that drivers paid attention to the road. After a few blocks I moved directly into traffic like I was a motorcycle. It appeared that I was a Mover as well as a Brute, even discounting the possibility of being able to fly. I easily kept up with the traffic and the posted speed limit was 45 miles per hour and it didn't even feel like I was sprinting. My running gait seemed odd to me with both hind legs moving together and both fore legs moving together. The way my rear legs pushed off, it felt like I was jumping all the time.

I spent a lot of the time I was running making plans. I didn't think I could handle being on the same team with Sophia—so the Wards were out. Even if they sacked her over this, I didn't want to be subordinate to bosses that would keep her around in the first place. Being an independent hero who was unmasked seemed to be asking for trouble, but since I was unmasked, that opened up a possibility.

When I got home I fished my key from a necklace I kept around my neck. After Mom's flute got stolen, I had taken to carrying everything I didn't want stolen securely. To my surprise, I found I was wearing another necklace as well. The new one had a little unicorn head charm on it. On the back was engraved, "To Dad. Love, Taylor." It must be the artifact from Elmindra that was supposed to protect Dad.

I entered the house a bit nervously. Dad was the type to stay home and worry because I hadn't come home last night.

"Taylor?" Dad was home. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, Dad. It's me," I answered.

He came into the room and then stopped and stared at me. I shuffled my legs nervously. "Something happened to me at school yesterday morning. I didn't get free until a little bit ago and then this happened." I gestured to my body. "I triggered."

"Oh, Taylor," he said. He came over and embraced me. Concern radiated from him mixed with relief and guilt and lots of love. I tentatively hugged him back.

He pulled back a little so that he could look me in the eyes, but kept hold of my arms. "You can hug me back, Taylor. You're still my little girl." The love he radiated came to the front tinged with a little bit of hurt.

I giggled and smiled at him. "It's not that, Dad—and I'm hardly little anymore. I'm pretty sure I'm a Brute now, I don't want to hurt you."

He smiled back at me and renewed his embrace. The hurt faded, but some of the guilt came back. "What happened, Taylor?"

I decided to tell him pretty much the whole story. If I didn't tell him about Elmindra, I don't know if I could get him to wear the unicorn necklace she had given me for him. As I told him the story, I realized that I was actually feeling his emotions rather than just picking up visual clues. I wasn't sure if I was still growing into my powers or if I just had been too worked up at the school to notice. I waited until the end to tell him who my bullies were. Dad's emotions spiked when I told him that Emma had been one of my bullies.

"Did Alan know about this?" he asked angrily.

I shook my head. "I don't think so." My dad and Emma's dad had been friends for a long time—since before we were born. I knew they still talked often, but I hadn't been back to Emma's house since that disastrous first time after I returned from the summer camp a year and a half ago. Her betrayal of me wasn't something she would tell her dad anyway.

Dad stomped off and yanked the phone off its receiver.

"Dad!" I exclaimed. "Don't be angry when you talk to him!"

"Why shouldn't I?" he asked.

"Mr. Barnes is super protective of his daughters," I said. "If you yell at him, he's going to yell back and you'll ruin your friendship over something that he didn't do."

"I should just let it go?" he asked, frustrated.

"I'm not saying that, Dad," I returned. "Talk to him when you can do it calmly and rationally. If you talk to him about it the right way, maybe he'll get her counseling or something."

"Counseling?" Dad ground out. "I want her in juvie!"

I shrugged. There was some part of me that wished my relationship with Emma could go back to the way it used to be, but I doubted I could ever trust her again. I just knew that Dad had little chance of getting things to go our way if he flew off the handle. "Handle it like you would a negotiation for the Union, Dad."

He took a deep breath and placed the phone back on its receiver. He calmed down. I could still feel a bunch of negative emotions in him, but they were suppressed.

"You're right," he said. "I'll handle it like I'm talking to the mayor." Not that Dad's negotiations with the mayor often went as he wanted, but I knew what he was saying.

"Have you thought about what you want to do yet?" he asked. "Were you going to join the Wards?" He radiated concern and a bit of fear for me.

I hadn't told him about Sophia being Shadow Stalker and I decided it was a good idea to refrain from doing so. The word on Parahumans Online said that the Protectorate and PRT were extremely protective of Wards' identities. I didn't want Dad to fly off the handle about that.

"I was thinking about talking to New Wave, Dad," I said. "I think I'd be a better fit there."

New Wave was a group of heroes that had unmasked about ten years ago in an attempt to promote parahuman transparency and accountability. The movement had failed when a Nazi cape had assassinated one of them while at home. There had been a huge backlash against the Empire 88 due to that and the Nazi group's leader at the time, Allfather, had been forced to make an example of the perpetrator. New Wave still promoted their goals, but had acknowledged that the time might not be right for a general unmasking of capes. Since I was unmasked from the start, I hoped they would take me in. The only possible hiccup was the fact that all their members were related, but I didn't think their charter required it.

"Why them?" he asked.

I hesitated, but then explained my reasoning, only leaving out the part about Sophia being a Ward. "I can't help but be a little distrustful about authority after the way I was treated at Winslow by the staff. I don't have anything against any of the individual members of the Wards or Protectorate, but the policies that the PRT espouses seem to be aimed at maintaining the status quo rather than fixing the city. New Wave, being independent have a little more freedom to do good and the powers that be can't arbitrarily sideline them without risking offending Panacea."

Panacea, whose real name was Amy Dallon, was the premiere healing cape in the world. She could heal anything that didn't involve the brain. She was even reported to be able to grow back limbs given access to enough biomass. The only cape rumored to be as capable was Bonesaw and no one wanted to be voluntarily under the knife of the Slaughterhouse Nine member. I suppressed a shudder at the thought.

I fished out the necklace that Elmindra had given me for Dad and took it off. I tossed it to him. He caught it and said, "What's this for?"

"Elmindra gave it to me for you when I raised concerns about your safety, what with me being outed as a cape," I explained. "She said it would teleport you to a safe place if you were in danger, but didn't give me any details."

"That seems to be her modus operandi," Dad said with a snort.

"Yep," I said, nodding absently. "I'm heading to the bathroom to get a look at myself. I can tell my face is different by touch, but haven't had access to a mirror yet. While I'm doing that, can you look up New Wave's contact number?"

"Sure, kiddo," he said.

I walked down the hall to the bathroom. I was glad that I was flexible or I would never have been able to turn in our narrow halls in order to enter the room. The bathroom was even more narrow than the hall, due to the sink and cabinets. I turned my upper torso to look in the mirror.

I gasped. I was _gorgeous_ in a very exotic way. I was still recognizable as Taylor Hebert, but my too large eyes and wide, thin mouth were now perfectly sized for my face. My face had stretched and narrowed so that my features flowed together better. All the little flaws were gone. My complexion was _perfect_. The only really big differences, besides my horn and the white color of my hair, were my ears, which were now pointed, and my eyes, which were now _bright_ green. Dozens of small changes made me look elfin—or maybe elvish considering I looked more like a Tolkien elf than Santa one. My upper body looked deceptively petite. I was bigger, emphasized by my too-tight t-shirt, but I somehow still managed to look delicate—just scaled bigger. I imagined this would be emphasized by my lower half, if I could see it in the mirror.

The bathroom smelled strongly of cleaners and underneath I smelled other scents that I was not anxious to identify. I was able to ignore them if I desired, which I did. I wondered if my other senses had improved with my eyesight. I concentrated on my hearing and realized I could hear Dad typing on the computer. My hearing was definitely improved, but not to the point that it was supernatural; I couldn't hear Dad's heartbeat or anything like that.

I started to back out of the bathroom only to bump into the cabinet. I heard something wobble and looked and saw some perfume on top of it begin to tip over. The perfume had been given to me by Emma as a condolence gift when my mother had died—the last pleasant thing she had ever given me. I'd never used it, but couldn't bear to get rid of it or look at it so I'd placed it out of the way. By now, I cared little about the perfume itself, but I certainly didn't want it spilling all over the bathroom. With my enhanced sense of smell, I would probably be smelling it forever. I twisted around but I wouldn't be able to reach it as it fell; however, I could _feel_ the perfume bottle and everything in the bathroom. I stopped it from falling and brought it to my hand. Telekinesis? Was that what made it so that my neck and upper abdomen didn't get tired from holding up my weird body?

While I was catching the bottle, I'd noticed an odd glow reflecting off the cabinet. I levitated the bottle again and found that the glow was coming from my horn. It wasn't super bright, but it was definitely noticeable. I sighed There wasn't a lot about me that _wasn't_ noticeable. I would never be able to fade into the background again except for when I was using my promised Changer ability.

I set the perfume on the sink counter and then concentrated on changing into my old body. Light pulsed from my horn and then my balance shifted. It worked! It had even produced the pants and shoes I pictured, which was a major relief. I didn't want to end up half naked in order to be able to use this aspect of my power. I was also glad that the change was seamless and near instant—unlike my initial change into my new body.

I concentrated and then shifted to Emma. It was weird looking at my former friend in the mirror. I concentrated on turning into Dad, but it failed. I tried Mr. Gladly and that also failed. I tried Mrs. Knott. I changed, but into a younger version of her. I tried turning into an 8-year-old neighbor girl I had seen several times, but ended up as a teenaged version of her. I concluded that I could only turn into girls my own age. I shrugged and turned back into my old self.

I walked out of the bathroom. It felt decidedly odd to walk on two legs again and I was missing the grace and flexibility of my centaur body. I guess my brain is now wired for walking on four legs even if I could still handle two legs.

"Taylor?" Dad exclaimed, surprised and a happy. "You're back to normal?"

I had forgotten to tell him that Elmindra had promised I'd be able to do this. I shook my head. "Not really, Dad," I said. "Elmindra gave me the ability to assume a normal human. She said it would only last for an hour a day. I just tested it and I can change into any girl my age I can picture, but not men and any women or girls I try end up this age."

I pictured changing into Mom. The change didn't feel that big. I thought I might be a little shorter and a little more developed in the chest and hips, but the change was small.

Dad gasped. I could feel a spike of longing and sadness coming from him. I quickly changed to Emma again, then back to my old self.

Dad settled down and said, "Only an hour? That's not a lot of time."

I giggled. "Elmindra said she gave me the Changer ability to provide stress relief, but she didn't want me to be able to hide all the time."

I changed back to my centaur base form. I felt subtly more comfortable for it. "I figured out something in the bathroom. Look!"

I reached out with my telekinetic sense. I could feel everything in about a 10 foot circle around me, which was about half the room. I was closer to one of the walls, but couldn't feel anything on the other side of it, so it was apparently line-of-sight from me (not my eyes). I picked up the coffee table, the sofa, and the love seat. The glow from my horn increased the more objects I lifted. It wasn't a strain. I felt like I could lift more objects _and_ more weight. This was a pretty powerful Shaker ability, even if the range was limited. I put the furniture down.

Dad's eyes were wide. I felt awe and pride leaking off him.

"It seems like I don't have too great a range, but I think I can lift a lot within that range," I said.

"That's great, Taylor," he said. "I found a contact number for New Wave."

"Thanks, Dad," I smiled at him.

Affection radiated off him as he handed me a Post-It note with the number.

I went over to the phone and dialed the number.

"New Wave Information Line," a young woman said over the phone. "This is Nikki. How can I help you?"

"Hi," I replied. "My name is Taylor Hebert. I just had a very public parahuman trigger at Winslow High School. My appearance also changed and there is no way I can hide that I'm a parahuman. I was interested in talking to a member of New Wave about the possibility of joining."

"Okay, Taylor," Nikki said. "Let me see who I can get ahold of for you. Before I do, can you tell me what your powers are?"

"I think I've verified Shaker and Mover powers and I'm probably also a Brute. I also look like a Case 53, but I have all my memories." I wanted to keep my Changer and empathic abilities—I think that would count as Thinker—secret from the public for now. If New Wave accepted me, I'd tell them.

"What do you look like?" she asked.

"I look like a centaur with a unicorn horn and wings," I said, a little bit embarrassed.

"Really?" she asked. Even without being in range of my empathic abilities I could tell she was a little weirded out. "Can you fly?"

"I haven't tested it out yet," I responded. "But given the nature of my Shaker ability, I'm pretty sure I can."

"What is the nature of your Shaker ability, Taylor?" she asked.

"Telekinetic," I answered. "I haven't tested it a whole lot either."

"Alright, Taylor," she said. "Can I put you on hold while I contact a member of New Wave?"

"Go ahead," I told her.

"Thanks," she replied. "This shouldn't take long."

I was on hold for about five minutes. It seemed much longer, but that's what the clock said.

"Hello," a woman said. "This is Lady Photon. Are you still there, Taylor?"

"Yes," I replied. "It's nice to talk to you, Lady Photon."

"Nikki says that you are interested in joining New Wave. Is that correct?"

"Yes," I said. "Like I told Nikki, I had a public trigger and I look like a centaur. It's not like I can hide that I'm a parahuman. I want to be a hero and make a difference, but I think I'd be a better fit for New Wave than the Wards."

"How old are you, Taylor?" Lady Photon asked.

"I'm fifteen, almost sixteen," I said.

"I can't promise anything," said the established hero, "but I'm interested in having you meet the team and seeing if we're compatible."

"Thanks, Lady Photon," I said. "When and where?"

"We have a storefront on the Boardwalk," she said. "It doesn't have the space for powers testing or anything like that, but it will do for an initial meet and greet."

"I've seen it before," I said. "I know where it is."

"Great. Can you be there at seven o'clock this evening?"

"I think so," I said. I turned to Dad. "Is seven o'clock good to meet with New Wave?"

He nodded.

"That works for me," I told her. "Is it alright if my Dad comes?"

"That would be preferable, actually," she told me. "Please have him come. I'll see you then."

"Okay. Thanks for giving me a chance. Bye."

"Bye."

We both hung up.

I smiled at Dad. "She seemed nice."

An awkward silence stretched between us. Since Mom had died a year and a half ago, things had been strained between us. We both missed her deeply and we both tended toward introversion when stressed. I'm pretty sure he felt guilty about not being there for me and I had not wanted to add to his stress by telling him about my bullies. This led to a lot of awkward silences between us.

"I need some new clothes, Dad," I finally said. "The good news is that I don't need any new pants or shoes."

He smiled weakly at my attempt at humor.

"I'll get you some money," he said. "Do you want me to come?"

"I wouldn't mind, Dad," I said, "but I don't think I fit in the car anymore."

"You could use your Changer ability," he said.

"I'd rather keep that under wraps," I said. "It'd be better for people to see me doing mundane things like this."

Dad pulled out his wallet and handed me $200. Money was tight, so I was tempted to hand some of it back, but I wanted a few nice tops in order to make a good impression.

I went to my room in order to take off my useless bra that I had unclasped not long after my change and to get a shirt that wasn't so tight. I sighed when I looked around my room. There was no way I could sleep on a normal bed. I sighed again at what else I couldn't use. I hadn't been thinking of bathroom tasks when I'd agreed to the changes. It looked like I would be using my Changer time for the toilet and showers—at least at home.

I put on a windbreaker even though the sleeves were too short and it was a little tighter and shorter than I liked, for modesty since I wasn't wearing a bra. Strictly speaking I didn't need a bra for support—I assumed my telekinesis was to thank for that—but I didn't want to be showing through the thin material of my shirt.

While I was finishing up, I heard the doorbell ring. Dad answered it. My hearing was good enough to hear a woman's voice politely ask to talk to me.

"Taylor," Dad called. "Someone is here for you!" His voice carried a tinge of awe and nervousness.

I went back down the hall to the living room. An olive-skinned woman wearing combat fatigues was at the door. She a U.S.-flag-themed scarf over her lower face and a similar sash around her waist. She was easily recognizable as Miss Militia, second-in-command of the local Protectorate.

She radiated kindness and concern over a bedrock of resolve and duty. "Hello, Taylor," she said. "I'm Miss Militia. I understand that you triggered today?" She offered me a handshake, which I took.

"Yes," I said, studying her. Out of all the heroes in Brockton Bay, Miss Militia had the best reputation from my point of view. Most said that Armsmaster or Dauntless were more powerful, but Miss Militia had a reputation for being experienced, competent, _and_ compassionate. There were a sizable number of people that claimed that Armsmaster was a jerk. I wasn't sure if I believed it, but nobody except the real loons claimed that about Miss Militia. I decided to see if I could get her to do something about my bullies. "I was systematically bullied for a year and a half by three girls and their friends. If anyone was ever friendly with me, they scared them off. Since they were the popular girls, the staff let them get away with anything. One teacher in particular was so desperate to be popular that he let them bully me _during_ his class. This culminated yesterday morning when the Madison Clements, Emma Barnes, and Sophia Hess shoved me into a locker filled with used pads and tampons and I was trapped in there overnight. I didn't get out until I triggered and then I changed into this in front of a sizable portion of the school." Although nothing was visible on her face, I felt Miss Militia's emotions spike when I said the name "Sophia Hess:" anger, guilt, and compassion. It seemed she, at least, didn't know that Shadow Stalker was involved. Dad's anger also spiked as he listened to what had happened to me again.

"I can't promise any results," she said carefully, "but since this involved your trigger as a parahuman, I can talk to Director Piggot and see if there is anything we can do. The PRT and the Protectorate often work closely with the local police and we can pass on any evidence that you can share with us. Do you have any evidence that it was those three girls?"

I shrugged. "I've documented very thoroughly what they've done to me, but it's always been my word against theirs and the school always took their side. They've cowed any witnesses that might have testified on my behalf."

"If you let me get a copy of your documentation, it should be enough to satisfy probable cause and get a search warrant," she told me, "but in my experience it won't be enough to convict."

I sighed. "They've probably already destroyed any evidence they had. Sophia in particular seems canny about that type of thing." Miss Militia's emotions spiked again. "But possibly one of their cronies has not been as careful. I'll give you a list of the regular suspects. I hope you understand if I hold onto my record of what they did to me for now. Anything I gave to the school as evidence was destroyed by the staff, sometimes right in front of me without even being examined." Miss Militia radiated sadness and resolve.

"I personally guarantee that whatever you put into my hands will be returned to you, Taylor," she said. Her emotions said she was being sincere and honest.

"If you give me a signed receipt, I'll release one of my notebooks," I told her reluctantly. I was reluctant not because I didn't think she was being honest with me, but because I didn't trust her superiors not to "lose" what I gave her. However, I new that her honor was very important to her so I decided to trust her.

"Thank you for trusting me, Taylor," she said sincerely.

I'll admit that my empathic sense made trusting her easier, but I knew it was still possible for me to get burned.

"Can I ask what your plans are?" Miss Militia asked me. "I'll admit that one of the reasons I came to talk to you was to tell you about the opportunities that are available in the Wards and to offer you powers testing in order to help you get a handle on your powers." Her emotions told me that this was rehearsed. I had actually expected this and was glad I had managed to set up an appointment with New Wave first.

"Thank you for the offer," I said, "but I've already talked to New Wave about joining them."

"Oh? Do you have a commitment from them yet?" she asked politely.

"No," I admitted. "Just an appointment to talk to them about it."

"New Wave does a lot of good work," the Protectorate hero said, "but one thing you should consider is that the Wards and the Protectorate in general have a lot of varied experience. We have several heroes that are what are termed as Case 53s among our membership. Case 53s are capes that have a permanently altered appearance in some fashion."

"I'm familiar with the term," I told her. "I don't seem to have the other symptoms, however."

"No memory loss or strange tattoos then?"

"No memory loss," I confirmed. "As for tattoos, I haven't had the opportunity to check my back, but I haven't seen any. As for your offer, I'd like to talk to New Wave first. I think I would fit in better there."

She nodded, content not to press me on that for now. "Even if you do join New Wave, you're welcome to use our power testing facility. The local Protectorate and Wards work very closely with them."

"I'll keep that in mind," I told her. "It's been a pleasure talking with you, Miss Militia, but I really need to do some clothes shopping. My upper body grew too—just not as much as the rest of me."

Her eyes crinkled in a smile. "If you'll meet me out at my van, I'll take your documents and give you a receipt."

I nodded to her and went back to my bedroom while she briefly talked to my dad before heading outside. I grabbed one of the six notebooks that I'd used to document the bullying and a piece of paper. I jotted down the names of my tormentors and their hangers-on.

I exited my room and then our house and walked to the van parked along the street. Miss Militia had a small pad and pen. The pad was the type that made a triple copy in different colors. She filled out a description of the item which read: "Notebook containing descriptions of purported bullying of Taylor Hebert by Sophia Hess, Emma Barnes, Madison Clements, and accomplices." I rolled my eyes at the use of the word "purported," but I had seen enough cop shows to understood that law enforcement had to use words like purported and suspected.

"What dates does the notebook cover, Taylor?" she asked.

"September and October of 2010," I told her.

She filled in the dates and gave me the pad to look over. "If you agree with the description, sign and date it."

I did so and handed it back to her. She also signed and dated the receipt. She ripped out the pink copy and gave it to me. I handed her the notebook and list of names.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Taylor," she said sincerely. "I just wish it were under better circumstances."

"Me too," I admitted. "I'm happy to find out that your reputation is well founded, Miss Militia."

She smiled at me with her eyes again. "I do have to ask because I'm dying to know. Do your wings actually work?"

I laughed. "I haven't actually tested them yet." Deciding to throw her a bone, I said, "If you hang around for a little bit, you can watch me find out."

"I would love that," she said sincerely.

I moved toward the middle of our front yard and extended my wings. It felt good to extend them all the way, like I was stretching stiff muscles. I flapped them experimentally a few times and then began to flap them in earnest. I was not too terribly surprised to find myself still on the ground. I folded my wings again and extended my telekinetic sense. Experimentally, I pushed on the ground. I rose off the ground until I was about ten feet high, which was the extent of my range. I would be severely disappointed if that was as high as I could go. I tried willing myself up, instead of pushing against the ground. To my delight it worked.

I waved to Miss Militia as I rose into the air. I spread my wings again and enjoyed the feeling of the wind on my feathers. While I could apparently levitate without my wings, they were what actually gave me speed in the air. I got the idea that my Shaker ability not only applied force telekinetically, but actually altered the inertia of the object I controlled. This was the only explanation for how I could feel so light on my feet despite the unwieldy construction of my body. I looked fabulous, but if I actually had to obey physics, I would feel quite different. If that were true, then I was extremely powerful within my Shaker range since it could potentially mean that I could handle extremely massive objects with precision and delicacy—depending on how well my inertial canceling worked. I waved again as I headed off to find a store.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Taylor's ability to multitask within her Shaker range is a shout out to her canon power which lets her control _all_ the arthropods within her large range.


	3. Chapter 3: New Wave

I flew to the nearest mall. I was fascinated to note that my eyes could focus on objects much farther away than a normal human, which made finding my way easier. I landed and entered the closest of the anchor stores. I encountered stares and a few glares. Most people were fascinated by me, but I could feel the disgust and hatred on a minority. I sighed. Brockton Bay had to be the most racist city in the country. Not only were we home to the Nazi white supremacist Empire 88, but also a pan-Asian gang called the Azn Bad Boys which was almost as bad. The presence of those groups meant that many of the Blacks and Hispanics developed chips on their shoulders in response.

I proceeded to the women's section and picked out several sizes of bras that were a little bigger than my old size. I headed to the changing rooms, but was stopped by a young saleswoman.

"Miss," she said, "I'm afraid you're going to have to leave and come back with shoes." Her emotions felt bored and dispassionate. I could tell she didn't really care, but thought she'd get in trouble if she didn't stop me.

"You can't be serious," I said. "There aren't any shoes in the world that would fit me. Are you denying me a reasonable accommodation?"

She blushed and said defensively, "Can't you get rubber horse shoes or something?"

I gestured for her to come closer and brought my front left foot up and back so that she could see the bottom of my feet. I used my telekinesis to steady myself in case I needed it. "Cloven hooves. Horse shoes would do more harm than good."

She blushed again. "I'm just trying to protect our floors."

I blinked. I actually hadn't thought about that. I glanced back the way I came in, but couldn't see any scuffs or scratches with my telescopic vision. "The floors look fine to me and I would be able to tell if they weren't. I wouldn't worry about it. My body tends to defy physics that way."

Technically, I could levitate through the store, but I was feeling picked on and it was making me surly. It was a small thing, but being forbidden from touching the floors would make me feel like a leper.

She sighed. "Wait here and I'll go get the manager."

The manager was a middle-aged man. "Are you a hero or a villain?" he asked nervously.

I rolled my eyes. "I plan on being a hero, but I actually just triggered earlier today. I would really like to be able to get some clothes that aren't too tight." I held of the bundle of bras I was carrying.

The manager blushed.

"I have no idea what my sizes are anymore, so it's not like I can shop online," I added.

The manager coughed and then said, "Just let me check the floors and if they're alright, you can continue shopping."

I shrugged. That was pretty reasonable. Annoying, but reasonable. I hoped it wouldn't be like that everywhere I went.

The manager went and looked at the floors. He came back after a few minutes and gave me permission to continue. I asked him to pass the word to the other stores and he said he would call the mall management and let them know that I apparently broke physics enough to not damage the floors.

Luckily, one of the bras I had chosen was the right size. I got more of that kind and some sports bras. I picked out some nice blouses and a few t-shirts. I thought about getting a new hoodie, since I liked them, but I couldn't see it matching my new body's style; instead I got a nicer jacket. I might not be susceptible to the cold, but it would help me feel more normal to at least make a nod toward dressing appropriately for the winter. On the other end of the spectrum, I thought about getting a dress to alter to fit me, but in the end I decided not to. I was dubious of my skill to make it actually look good and not like a tent or loincloth.

I paid for my purchases and then flew home. I wasn't in the mood to attempt another store.

* * *

I dressed in one of my nice blouses with a correctly-fitting bra on underneath. It shouldn't have made me feel better since my powers took away the need for one—not that I was large enough there to _really_ need one—but it did.

"Dad?" I called out, entering the living room. "Did you want to fly with me there? You wouldn't have to leave as early."

"What? On your back? You don't look that sturdy." He actually felt more embarrassed than worried for me.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm a Brute, Dad. But that's not what I was offering. Sitting on my back you'd get in the way of my wings. Remember how I lifted the sofa?"

He might be able to sit in front of my wings, but I was really uncomfortable with being ridden like an animal.

Dad's eyes widened and concern and nervousness—it wasn't quite fear—radiated off him. "You want to carry me without hands all the way to the Boardwalk?"

"I'm pretty sure I can do it safely and easily, Dad," I said. "We can practice in the backyard where it should be safe."

"'Pretty sure' and 'should' don't fill me with a lot of confidence, kiddo" Dad said. "How about you practice with something other than me first."

I gave him a sheepish look. "That's a good idea, actually."

We went out into the back and opened up the shed. Dad brought out the wheelbarrow.

"How about you bring out more things and we'll see how many things I can lift at once," I said.

"How about you start with the wheelbarrow and we'll go from there," he said. "I'd rather not have to replace the lawnmower."

I huffed in amused offense at his doubt in my abilities, but didn't argue. I rose about five feet in the air and spread my wings. I extended my telekinetic sense and lifted the wheelbarrow. I flapped my wings and willed myself higher. I flew in a wide circle above the house. It was easy to keep the wheelbarrow in the same position relative to me while I flew. I swooped down and hovered next to the shed.

"I'm ready for more, Dad," I said.

"Try it with a shovel added," he said, pointing to the pile of yard tools.

I snorted and grabbed the whole pile individually. I moved them apart from each other, two shovels, two types of rakes, and a hoe. I arrayed them about me in a loose circle with the wheelbarrow in the front and took off higher into the air again. Flying with the five yard tools in addition to the wheelbarrow didn't put any additional strain on me—power-wise or mentally.

I descended again and snagged the lawnmower, which Dad had finally brought out of the shed. I rotated the wheelbarrow to the side and held it and the lawnmower in front of me for Dad's piece of mind. With my telekinetic sense active, I was perfectly aware of everything within my range.

I flew down and landed, keeping the tools suspended above me. I walked over to the shed and placed the tools back on their hooks and parked the wheelbarrow and lawnmower—all without using my hands.

"That was easy, Dad," I told him. "My power makes me perfectly aware of everything with ten feet of me and I feel like I could control even more things."

"Alright," Dad said. "I'll give it a shot." Dad was putting on a brave face, but my empathy told me he was very nervous. I didn't make an issue of it. No need to embarrass him.

I lifted him into the air. He gulped, but didn't say anything. I lifted myself int the air and we took a lazy circle around the house about 50 feet in the air. Some of our neighbors were standing on their porches watching us. I waved to them before heading down and landing.

"I'll admit that that was a little unnerving," Dad said, "but I think I can handle it." He chuckled. "Don't be offended if I don't ask you to ferry me everywhere."

We spent the rest of the time before dinner trying to figure out what animal my lower body was based on using the internet. As near as we could tell, my lower half was most similar to a gazelle or other antelope.

* * *

I felt the immense relief flow from Dad as we landed next to New Wave's storefront.

"Is it really that bad, Dad?" I asked.

"It's not, really," he said. "I never felt like I was going to fall—it's just the lack of control or obvious support is a bit unnerving, Taylor. The fact that it's dark doesn't help things."

I hadn't thought about the fact that it would be dark due to it being winter—at least it turned out that improved night vision turned out to be another one of my Thinker talents. That and the fact that the Boardwalk was easy to find and once we were there it was easy to find the right storefront with all the signs lit up.

"Would it be better if I carried you in my arms on the way back?" I asked.

He flushed, embarrassed. "Maybe if you just held my hand?" he asked.

"Sure, Dad," I said.

We approached the door, when a blonde-haired girl a year or so older than me burst out of the door. She was easily recognizable as Glory Girl, Victoria Dallon.

"Hi," she said smiling. "You must be Taylor. I'm Victoria, but you can call me Vicky." She held out her hand.

"Hi, Vicky," I responded, taking her hand. I was a little taking aback by her exuberance, but I was trying to be more outgoing, so I tried not to show it. I was getting some weird feedback from my empathic sense.

The door opened again and a girl as mousy as I used to be stopped in the doorway. She had frizzy brown hair and freckles. The girl had to be Vicky's sister Amy, also known as Panacea. She radiated loneliness, but there was some longing when she looked at Vicky and an echo in her that matched the feedback I was getting off Vicky. She rolled her eyes and said, "Invite them in, Vicky."

"Sure, Ames," Vicky said. "Come on in."

"Hi, I'm Taylor and this is my dad, Danny," I said.

"I'm Amy," she replied politely, but distantly.

The foyer of the storefront was nicely appointed. It appeared to also be a waiting room and had a receptionist desk at the far end of it. The desk itself was empty, but an attractive blonde woman stood beside it. She looked a little bit like Vicky.

"Hello, Taylor? Mr. Hebert? I'm Sarah Pelham, Lady Photon," she said.

Dad and I shook hands with her.

"Follow me and I'll take you to the conference room."

We were led to the back and a room with a table in the middle. The rest of New Wave was present. More introductions were made: Carol Dallon, Brandish; Mark Dallon, Flashbang; Neil Pelham, Manpower; Eric Pelham, Sheilder; and Crystal Pelham, Laserdream. They were all blond except for Eric whose hair was died blue and Neil whose hair was brown. Neil was also the only person I had met since changing who was taller than me—if you didn't count my horn.

The Pelhams were all friendly, although Eric's eyes lingered on me a little in a way that I was unused to. Before Emma had betrayed me and I was universally shunned by my peers, she had always been the one to attract that type of attention. Mrs. Dallon was polite, but distant. Mr. Dallon smiled wanly at me. His emotions felt weary and disconnected somehow.

Everyone sat down in chairs—except for me, of course. I knelt down next to the table.

"Why don't you tell us a little about yourself, Taylor?" Mrs. Pelham asked.

"I don't really know what to say," I said after a moment. "I've always been a quiet girl. I like to read. I've always dreamed of being a hero, but I never thought I'd actually trigger. High School has been really rough on me. . ." I was wary of saying how everyone had picked on me and that I hadn't had a single friend for over a year and a half. I admit to being a little afraid that they would turn me down if they heard how no one liked me.

"Is it true that you got shoved into a locker filled with trash?" Vicky blurted out.

I frowned. "That was how I triggered, yes."

"Victoria. . ." her mother cautioned.

"It was all over PHO," Vicky explained. "Do you know who did it?"

"Yes, I do," I said. "Emma Barnes, Sophia Hess, and Madison Clements." I noticed that Mrs. Dallon's emotions spiked when I said Emma's name while both Vicky and Amy's spiked when I said Sophia's name. "But I doubt anything will happen to them," I added bitterly. "I've been complaining about them bullying me for over a year and a half and Winslow has done nothing, claiming I don't have any proof."

Vicky and Amy looked at each other. Both of them felt angry, but they didn't say anything. They almost certainly knew who Sophia was, but had probably signed a non-disclosure agreement.

Mrs. Dallon said, "You don't happen to know Miss Barnes's father's name, do you?"

"Alan," growled Dad. He had grown angry again at hearing about my bullying again.

"Alan Barnes is a lawyer at the same firm as me," Mrs. Dallon said cautiously. "I've met his daughters a few times. Emma seemed like a nice girl."

"I used to think so too," I said bitterly. "She was my best friend until just before High School started."

"Will you need legal representation for this locker incident?" Mrs. Dallon asked.

"The only lawyers I know are Alan and some contract lawyers through the Dockworkers Union," Dad said. "I can hardly go to Alan about this and my Dockworker contacts are mere acquaintances. We don't really have the resources to hire anyone." Dad said embarrassedly.

"What do you intend to do about it?" Mrs. Pelham asked.

"I'd just as soon never see them again," I said, "but I doubt they'll let it go. Sophia struck me several times after my trigger because I was ignoring her. I've enough of a Brute rating that I shrugged her off, but. . ." I shrugged. "What I really want is to leave Winslow behind. If I stay, they'll keep bugging me until I snap and respond. Then I get the PRT called on me and _I'm_ the villain. I've tried getting transferred before, but the secretary shredded my application in front of me."

"How long were you in that locker?" Mrs. Dallon asked.

"Twenty-four hours," I said softly.

The emotions of everyone in the room spike on hearing that.

"Would you be willing to forgo suing the school district if you were transferred to Arcadia?" Mrs. Dallon asked. "I can probably get you expedited if I imply that, otherwise you would probably have to wait until it goes to court. If you were injured, you could probably also get a monetary award by settling out of court, but as is, they can claim you got other compensation out of it."

"I won't lie and say some money wouldn't be nice," I said, "but I'll be happy enough to be out of there."

"If Taylor's happy about it, then I'm happy about it," said Dad.

I smiled at him.

"I can write up a quick letter on New Wave letterhead and deliver it to the Superintendent's office," Mrs. Dallon said. "Since Alan Barnes is likely involved, I'm afraid I can't take the case on behalf of my firm—at least not pro bono. On the other hand, he'd also have to pay to use the firm's resources too if he goes against a member of New Wave."

Dad sighed, but nodded.

I picked up on Mrs. Dallon's last sentence. "So you're extending me membership?" I asked.

Mrs. Pelham looked at each member of New Wave. They each nodded. She said, "I think we can offer you preliminary membership. It's possible that we won't fit together, and we'll go our separate ways, but we never intended New Wave to be only a family group. It will be good to have new blood."

I smiled and said, "Thank you."

"What are your powers?" Vicky asked eagerly.

"I'm mainly a Shaker, I think," I said, "but my Shaker powers give me pretty good Brute and Mover ratings as a side effect. I also have some minor Thinker powers and a limited Changer power."

"Can you detail the individual aspects of your powers?" Mrs. Pelham asked.

"My Shaker power is short-range telekinesis," I said, "but it's very powerful within my range—which is about ten feet. I think it can also alter the inertia of myself and objects within my range. I've tested moving seven objects while flying with it and I think I could handle more than that pretty easily. My Shaker field also protects me and enhances my effective strength. It also enhances my ground speed." A lot of that was conjecture on my part, but I was pretty certain about it.

"So you're an Alexandria Package too?" Vicky said. "Awesome!" Flying Brutes were often compared to Alexandria, who was the archetype of that style of hero. Glory Girl was considered one.

"For Thinker, I have enhanced senses too, both normal senses, hearing, sight, and smell, and a feedback sense from my Shaker field. I'm also empathic."

"What?" Dad exclaimed.

I laughed ruefully. "Sorry, Dad. I forgot that I hadn't told you about my empathy yet."

"That doesn't sound very minor," Mr. Pelham said.

I flushed. "My normal senses are better than human, but not supernatural. They're more like a dog's hearing and smell, and an eagle's eyesight. My telekinetic feedback sense is short range. My empathy can't read thoughts of any kind—I can just read emotions."

"That's still pretty substantial," Mr. Pelham said.

"My Changer power is that I can turn into a normal human shape for about an hour a day," I said.

"The way you used to look?" asked Amy.

"Any human girl my age," I said. "I can't change into men and any women I try end up as teenagers even if my model isn't."

"How sure are you on the time limit?" asked Mrs. Pelham. "That seems to have a decent Stranger aspect too."

I indicated so-so with my hand. "I seem to have a limited amount of it and then once that's all used up it has to recharge. I haven't nailed down the specifics of it yet." I wanted to be cagey about this because it could lead to questions about Elmindra and I didn't want them to think I was crazy.

"How much of that do you want us to release to the press?" Mrs. Pelham asked.

"Just my Shaker power with its Brute and Mover aspects, please," I said. "The others will be more effective if they aren't known about."

"How about we just describe you as an Alexandria Package?" Mrs. Pelham said. "No reason to give criminals insight into how your powers work."

"Sounds good to me," I agreed.

"Do you have a name and costume idea?" Vicky asked.

"I was thinking of Alicorn," I said.

"Alicorn?" asked Crystal.

"It's the name for a unicorn's horn," I answered. "It's related to my power, but it's not a commonplace word—and it doesn't give away what my powers do. As for a costume, I have no clue."

"Don't worry, Taylor. I'll help you out," Vicky said.

For some reason a shudder traveled the whole length of my very long spine.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** This is a reversal of Canon Worm where Taylor came up with a costume on her own but had trouble coming up with a name. I figured this was appropriate since she no longer has minions to make fabric for her, but has a unique, distinctive appearance.


	4. Chapter 4: One Hundred Sextillion

**Author's Note:** Any similarities to any of the My Little Pony shows or merchandise are coincidence. Taylor isn't familiar with the MLP practice of calling winged unicorns alicorns, so her hero name isn't a reference to that.

* * *

New Wave sent us home with some documents to look over and sign as well as an appointment to meet with Glory Girl and Lady Photon the next day for some power testing.

When we got home, Dad fervently said to me, "I hope you don't mind if I never want to go flying with you at night again, Taylor."

We had had to fly low so that I could follow the streets home, which ironically made things worse for Dad. Finding the Boardwalk at night was easy, our neighborhood, not so much.

The first order of business when we got home was to make it so that I could sleep in my room. We ended up removing my bed, which was thankfully really easy with my power, and laying down a few camping mats and a sleeping bag for padding.

By then I was tired, emotionally more than physically, so I told Dad that I wanted to go to bed. I knelt my rear body down on the foot of the pads and then laid my upper body down flat. For the first time in my life I was grateful for my small chest size, even now I was only an A-cup which was a step up from the training bra I had worn. There was no way I'd ever be able to lie on my back or sides while I slept ever again.

The thought brought everything that had happened to me over the last two days crashing in on me. Whatever Elmindra had done to me when she first awoke me in the locker had numbed my emotions. I had been angry over what had happened to me, but it was a distant anger; now everything threatened to overwhelm me. I had plowed through shopping and meeting with Miss Militia and New Wave because I had had no choice, but it had all been well outside my comfort zone. I started to sniffle.

And now, I was having a hard time about the fact that I could no longer sleep in my bed and that I would have to learn how to sleep on my bellies—because I now had two. A manic giggle escaped my lips. Did I have two actual stomachs too? I remembered that centaurs in the Chronicles of Narnia had a horse stomach and a human stomach and had to eat different diets for each of them. At least I wasn't craving grass or hay!

I heard Dad shifting around getting himself ready for bed. I didn't want to worry him, so I quieted down. It didn't make it any easier to fall asleep.

* * *

When I woke up in the morning, I examined myself to see what kind of grooming I needed. I was rather surprised to find that I wasn't dirty—at all—especially considering my bright white fur and the fact that I'd never washed after the locker incident yesterday; it had never crossed my mind. I changed into a two-legged version of myself and used the toilet and examined myself in the mirror. My hair looked brushed and washed despite the fact that I'd just woken up. Did I have a minor Breaker power too?

I decided to take a quick shower anyway. I was surprised as the water that remained on my skin and hair sloughed off me as soon as I changed back to my now-normal four-legged form. I frowned at the puddle on the floor, but grinned as I used my power to pull a towel off the rack. Bending over to clean it up would be a major pain in my four-legged form.

The towel acted very oddly in my telekinetic grip. It hung from its exact center; I couldn't pick it up by the ends or roll it up. I could turn it on any of its three axes, but that was it. When I turned it upside down, it flopped over, but still hung from its center.

I shrugged and moved it to the floor. I was still able to use it to wipe up the water. When I used my power to lift it up again, I noticed that the place my power was lifting it from was different. I moved the towel up to get a better look at it and saw that one end of the towel was wetter than the other. Did my power only work on the center of mass?

When I went out into the living area of the house, Dad greeted me.

"I fixed pancakes," he said. "Help yourself."

Luckily Dad had made more than normal, since I had more room to fill. We were lucky that my appetite only increased by fifty percent.

Dad cleared his throat and said, "The papers that New Wave gave us are actually pretty simple. There's some trademark paperwork that says that if you leave New Wave you lose the right to use their mark and name, but can keep your hero name and costume as long as it doesn't contain any New Wave specific marks. That's a lot more generous than what I've read about the agreement you have to sign if you join the Protectorate or Wards. There's also a waiver in here saying that heroing is dangerous and that New Wave and its other members are not responsible if you get injured. There's also a form in here from the Youth Guard that informs us of your right as a minor to refuse any assignment that you feels is dangerous without any repercussion and my right as your guardian to do the same. There's also papers in here with New Wave's goals and purposes that we need to sign to indicate that we read them as well as the Youth Guard's guidelines and rules for heroes that are minors."

He sighed. "I'm not okay with you going out and putting yourself in danger, but since you're going to be a target anyway, I think it's better for you to be affiliated with a group like New Wave or the Protectorate. I've signed them, but I want you to promise me you'll be careful, okay?" He looked at me pleadingly.

"Okay, Dad," I said. "I'll be careful."

"There's a bunch of messages on the phone that from last night from news stations and papers asking for an interview. The must have all figured out who you were while we were gone."

I groaned. "Let me talk to Lady Photon before we agree to any interviews. I'm surprised that it took them so long."

"I looked at the threads on Parahumans Online and the mods were blocking all names due to 'an ongoing investigation,' but the powers that be can't stop all leaks." He smiled wanly. We knew it would only be a matter of time before who I was spread.

"I'm surprised they aren't camped outside our house," I muttered.

"I'm a little surprised too," Dad said, "but the press is even more fastidious about following the unwritten rules than Capes are. Capes typically have some defense against other capes, but the press—not so much. If you wait too long to give an interview, we'll probably have the more daring ones come out of the woodwork."

The "unwritten rules" protected the families of capes and their secret identities. I wasn't exactly sure what they entailed exactly, but no one could read PHO without hearing about them and getting a general sense.

"Are you going to school today?" he asked after a few moments.

"I'd rather not," I said. "I'm not in the mood to be treated like a freak."

"You're not a freak, Taylor!" Dad exclaimed.

"These are the people who left me trapped in that locker!" I said. "They already thought I was a freak and loser! Sure, some of them might be friendly now that I have powers, but I'd rather not deal with people that shallow cosying up to me."

"You'll have to deal with school at some point," he warned.

"I'm hoping that the School District caves to Mrs. Dallon quickly," I said.

"Okay," Dad said. "You can have the rest of the week off from school and then we'll see from there."

"Thanks, Dad," I said with a weak smile.

* * *

After Dad left for work and I cleaned up a little, I bit the bullet and looked at what they were saying about me online. I fired up Parahumans Online which was a combination forum and wiki that specialized in talking about capes. It was pretty much the go-to website for information on Capes. People liked it because a lot of capes—heroes and villains both—posted there. The mods verified capes and placed a tag by their user names indicating that they had been verified.

It didn't take long for me to find the thread dealing with my trigger. I looked at the video links, which I admitted were actually fascinating to look at from an outside point of view, and started to look through the posts with a sick fascination.

Eventually I had to turn away from the computer. I read 5 of the 50 pages before I couldn't stand it any more. There were a couple of posters who got banned for soliciting me because I was underage—which I found utterly disturbing. The thing that really got me upset were the obvious Winslow students. Most of them talked about how weird and antisocial I was and how I'd probably join a gang. There were also a few posts that were deleted completely, which by the context of the other posts tried to say that I had deserved the locker. Those were the ones which ultimately made me turn away. A few tried to defend me—a guy with the handle XxVoid_CowboyxX was banned for trying to out Emma, Sophia, and Madison.

The mods redacted all mentions of my name or my antagonists' names. They explained that even though I would probably not be able to keep my identity secret, they wanted to give me a chance to make arrangements for the protection of my family, just in case.

There was also a thread about me specifically. It had a link to the trigger thread, but asked that it be kept to knowledge or speculation about my powers and possible affiliation. They had links to videos of me flying, running through traffic, and my visit to the mall. The videos of me moving around fascinated me even more than my transformation had. I still couldn't wrap my head around the fact that that was me. The comments in this thread were tamer and more manageable. There were still some people that creeped me out or made me mad. The more generic "freak" comments were more manageable than the "she deserved it" comments in the trigger thread.

I created a new account with the name "Alicorn" and sent a private message to a mod to ask how to get verified as a cape. The mod responded back saying that I needed a picture of me in costume posed with the phrase "Brockton Bay baked beans beat Boston baked beans!" in the picture. The phrase was meant to make sure that it was me and not just someone else who had managed to take a picture of me.

I didn't have a costume, but figured a nice blouse would do for now. I went and changed into my white blouse, since all New Wave costumes had white as their major color. I grabbed a notebook and wrote the silly phrase in big block letters. I found our digital camera and figured out the timer function. I looked for a place to set the camera, but then decided to just hold it up with my telekinesis. I thought I might not have to use the timer, but then I realized my power was bad for pushing buttons without another object to push them. I ended up setting the timer and then moving the camera away from me with my power in order to get a picture. I sent in my picture and received a notice that I was now a verified cape, but I decided to wait until after New Wave's press release to post.

After that, I spent the rest of the time until lunch browsing the wiki portion of the site to scope out the powers of the local heroes and villains.

* * *

After a lunch of ham sandwiches I looked through the paperwork that New Wave had given us. I snorted at the Youth Guard paperwork. The "rules" they described were a bunch of poorly-worded guidelines and warnings that gave them the power to intervene on my behalf if they received word that my team or guardian were not doing a reasonable job protecting my safely adequately. Judging by the current state of things in Brockton Bay, I _probably_ didn't have to worry about them sticking their noses in.

The last piece of paper work was the "Endbringer Permission Slip." Dad had marked "Only participate if Brockton Bay was attacked." This brought me up cold. I hadn't had the time to even think about facing Endbringers. I knew that New Wave sometimes participated. Panacea in particular almost always went—although she did not participate in the fighting.

Could I face an Endbringer? My powers seemed to require close range. Ten feet was much closer to an Endbringer than I ever wanted to be. I was pretty sure I had Brute powers, but I doubted that they were the right type that I could get close to Behemoth, the Hero-Killer. He had an aura that killed any but the strongest Brute that got close to him. Simurgh, the Future-Killer, was a telekinetic on a huge scale. I had to assume she could easily cancel out my Shaker power. Leviathan, the City-Killer, was supposed to be incredibly fast and he could move incredible amounts of water. Did my powers work on water?

I walked over to the sink and filled it with water. I focused my telekinetic sense on the water. I could feel it; I tried lifting it out of the sink. It rose from the sink in a globe. I tried to shape it, but couldn't figure out how. I removed some of it and a smaller globe floated away from the main mass of water. Maybe there was some way I could play with this. Still, I had to assume that Leviathan would be more powerful than me in controlling water.

What real use would I be in an Endbringer fight? I would be excellent for search and rescue. My senses would be useful for finding people and while there were lots of Movers faster than me, I could move lots of people. There were perhaps a few high-end teleporters that could move more people than me, but I could be _very_ useful in evacuating the civilians and injured.

I decided to give Dad a call.

"Hello, Dockworker's Association, Brockton Bay. This is Danny speaking," Dad said when he answered the phone.

"Dad, this is Taylor."

"Hi, Taylor. Are you doing alright?"

"I'm fine, Dad. I was looking through the papers for New Wave and found the Endbringer Permission Slip."

"Taylor. . ." he said warningly.

"Look, Dad. I'm not asking to fight the Endbringers themselves, but I was thinking about my powers and I think I could contribute a lot in evacuation and search and rescue."

Dad was silent for what seemed like a long time, but was probably only a minute.

"Dad?" I prompted.

"I don't want you to go," he said. "I know it's selfish of me, but I don't want you near those things. You don't know how hard it was for me to mark down that you could fight if one came to Brockton Bay. I only did it because I didn't think you would listen if I told you 'no.'"

"Dad," I said, trying to sound like an adult. "I'm not asking to fight the Endbringers. Just think of all the people I could save."

He hesitated again. "I'm not going to change my mind right now. Maybe we can revisit this when we understand your powers better."

I sighed. "Okay, Dad. See you tonight."

"Love you, kiddo."

We both hung up. On the one hand I was a little relieved. If the Endbringers didn't scare you, you were crazy. Even powerhouses like the Triumvirate had to be scared of Simurgh, even if they could shrug off hits from the other two. The fact that I was relieved to not be able to fight them made me feel guilty.

I went through and signed all of the forms. The Endbringer form made me think again about what limits there were to my Shaker power. I seemed to have pretty fine control of the position and orientation of an object under my control, but I couldn't manipulate it beyond that.

I could control solids and liquids. Could I control gases too? I stretched out my telekinetic sense and focused. I could feel the air, but only if I focused my control into a much smaller area—about the size of a volleyball. I moved the ball of air around, generating a small breeze. It was strange, I was feeling the individual molecules of air. I could even separate the different types of molecules. Most of them felt like one of two types, but there were small amounts of other molecules. I separated the largest type, nitrogen, if I remembered right, from all the others. While I was doing this, my telekinetic sense was limited to the small ball of air. So there _was_ a limit to the number of different objects I could control. How many molecules were in eight inches diameter of air?

I spent an hour on the internet figuring it out. The calculations themselves were simple, I just needed to research what equations to use. Assuming an ideal gas, converting eight inches to meters and calculating the volume of a sphere, assuming 101,325 pascals pressure and 298 kelvins temperature, I calculated 0.18 moles in eight inches of air. Multiplying by Avogadro's Number gave me 1.1×10^23 molecules. I spent another few minutes figuring out what number that was: a hundred sextillion. I knew my estimate was rough, but A HUNDRED SEXTILLION!

I was in shock. The only frame of reference I had was actually using my power to separate the air molecules. I was sure that I could fill my entire ten-foot sphere around me with sand and be able to control every grain of sand. I wasn't sure what I would do with it or where I would fit in it, but I could do it.

I decided that I was done thinking about my powers and decided to read some fiction. I went to the my room and glanced over my bookshelf and my eyes settled on _The Last Unicorn_ by Peter S. Beagle. It had been a favorite of my mother. Despite just deciding to avoid thinking about my powers, I couldn't resist. I grabbed the book and knelt down on my sleeping pad and started to read it again.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I'm not real satisfied with my paragraphs summarizing PHO's reaction to Taylor, but I figured it would be worse if I tried to excerpt PHO passages. I realize it's traditional for Worm fanfics to include them, but I doubt I will. Writing dozens of short comments in different writing styles just doesn't appeal to me and if I don't enjoy writing it, the chance of you enjoying reading it goes down too.

The number of molecules in eight inches diameter of air in ambient conditions is a quick calculation I did with a calculator, so it's possible I made a mistake in punching in buttons.

Ideal Gas Law: PV=nRT

Volume: V=4/3πr^3 for a sphere

Radius: r in meters

Pressure: P in pascals

Temperature: T in kelvins

Ideal Gas Constant: R 8.314 J/(K*mol)

Solve for moles: n

Multiply n by Avogadro's Number (6.022×10^23) to get molecules


	5. Chapter 5: Power Testing

At three o'clock I flew back to the New Wave storefront. This time there was a receptionist at the front desk. Her name tag read "Nikki," so she must have been the one I talked to on the phone the other day. I greeted her and she talked to Lady Photon on her headset briefly. Lady Photon emerged from the back and invited me to follow her. We went to the same conference room and most of the other New Wave women were there in their costumes: Glory Girl, Panacea, and Laserdream.

I again noticed the feedback from Glory Girl and the echo that it caused in the emotions of the others. It was strongest in Panacea.

After greeting each other and handing off the completed paperwork, Lady Photon said, "We don't really have any powers testing facilities, but there's an old abandoned area of the docks we usually use for target practice. It's near one of the old husks that was picked over a decade ago. If you don't mind we can go there and test out some things."

I agreed.

As we went out through the back exit of the building, I said, "Four members of New Wave don't fly, right? Panacea, Brandish, Flashbang, and Manpower. I can easily transport all of them through the air at once. I flew my dad here last night."

"Can you test it on Glory Girl, Laserdream, and me?" she asked. "It's not that I don't trust you, but I can't imagine you've had lots of time to test it on multiple people."

I agreed and lifted the three of them and myself into the air. We flew around the block before coming back to where Panacea was waiting. My empathy told me she was grumpy about being left behind. It also told me that my "passengers" were all a little unnerved by the experience, but not as much as Dad had been.

"That was weird," Glory Girl said. "I had full range of motion all over my body, but my torso just followed you around."

"I won't lie," Laserdream said. "It was a little freaky to be in the air under someone else's power with nothing underneath me."

"Still, it would give us a lot more flexibility with deployment," Lady Photon said.

Panacea still asked to be carried by Glory Girl. I was starting to understand that being dragged through the air with no visible means of support would take some getting used to, so I was not too offended by her sticking with her sister.

When we reached the portion of the docks that overlooked the Boat Graveyard, Lady Photon said, "We don't really have the resources to do Brute testing safely. It would be best if you could get the Protectorate or PRT to do it for you."

"We could fight all out and then Ames can fix us up," Glory Girl said.

Lady Photon shook her head. "While that looks fine on paper, if one of you makes a mistake, it could lead to something Panacea can't fix. Best to do it in a controlled environment." She looked at me. "I'm guessing you have authority issues due to what happened to you at school and the fact that you asked to join us, but I'd recommend we work with them to at least test that part of your power."

I sighed and nodded. "You're not wrong that I have some issues with the PRT and the way they do things, but I'm willing to work with them. Miss Militia already offered me powers testing, but I wanted to talk to you first because I wasn't sure how closely you worked with them."

"We tend to work pretty closely with the Protectorate in general, but Glory Girl and, to a lesser extent, Panacea work with the Wards frequently," Lady Photon said.

"Should I call Miss Militia or should we do it through the team?" I asked.

"I'll have Nikki set it up," she replied. "Is there any time that's better for you than any other?"

"I'm taking the week off from school," I replied. "Anytime is fine."

"Do you have a phone?" she asked.

I shook my head. "Dad doesn't like them, since there was one involved in Mom's death."

I felt sympathy from all of the other girls. "I'm sorry," Lady Photon said, "but you realize that one is pretty much required for heroing, right?"

I nodded. "I know. I'm pretty sure Dad knows too."

"We get special Tinker-tech phones from the PRT at cost as affiliated heroes," she said. "They have special caller IDs so that the PRT knows that you aren't doing a crank call. They can't be tracked unless a special beacon app is activated and they work within Faraday cages. They also get Endbringer Alerts and similar warnings pushed to them. I'll get you one when we get back to the storefront. New Wave will cover the cost as long as you don't make crazy international calls." She smiled.

"Alright," I said. "What are we going to test?"

"I'd like to test everything although like I said, we'll leave most of your Brute testing to be done at the Protectorate or PRT," Lady Photon said.

"Alright," I said. "What's first?"

"First of all," she said, "do you mind if Panacea examines you?"

That made me kind of nervous, but I was expecting it. "Okay. What do you need me to do?"

"Just give me your hand and I'll look at your health and biology," Panacea said.

I held out my hand and she took it.

"Odd," she said with a small frown.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"It's not wrong, per se," she said. "It's just that I can't find your corona pollentia or your gemma. Those are the structures in brains that allow parahumans to use their powers. Obviously, you're a parahuman. You triggered in front of multiple witnesses and you have powers. They're not exactly the same in every cape, but I can usually find them."

She must have sensed my nervousness, since she gave me a small smile. "There are a few others that have been that way too. Usually they're the ones with extreme physical changes, so you match for that."

I knew it had more to do with the source of my powers than my biology, but I let it go. No need for them to think I was crazy.

"You'll be happy to know that your genetics are completely human," she said. "That means you could conceivably have children and they would be normal, at least until they triggered."

"Really?" asked Laserdream. "I understood that a lot of Case 53s had altered genetics."

"It _is_ common," Panacea replied, "but in her case her powers are maintaining her body shape rather than her genetics."

"How is that possible?" asked Glory Girl. "I thought your genes made you who you are."

"Not directly," her sister answered. "Your genes direct your growth and control your active processes. If I changed it so that you had 'short genes,' it wouldn't change your height because at 17 you've already reached your full growth. However, if I changed your pigmentation genes, you'd gradually change skin and hair color as cells were replaced. Plus, not all genes are active all the time. Some are only expressed in the womb and some only as an adult. Alicorn has normal human genes, they're just being expressed in a weird way thanks to her power. She doesn't have genes for four legs, but the genes she does have are maintaining her four legs in a pretty human fashion."

I looked down at my legs. "What about things like my hooves? There aren't human genes for those and they grow, right?"

"As far as I can tell, your power is making creative use of your toenail genes for those," she responded. "Same with your hair genes and the fur on your lower body."

"Weird," I said. The feeling was echoed by Laserdream and Glory Girl.

Lady Photon shook her head. "We should look at your actual powers. You're kind of a grab bag aren't you? Brute, Shaker, Thinker, Mover, Changer. What do you think would be the easiest?

I thought about it. "I think my Brute and Mover ratings are actually part of my Shaker power, but the easiest thing to demonstrate would be my limited Changer power."

I changed into my pre-powers form. "This is what I used to look like," I commented.

"You say you can only maintain this for about an hour?" Lady Photon asked.

"Yes," I said. "I can also change into other girls my age." I changed into Vicky, Amy, and then a young Sarah.

"Can you use your other powers like that?" Panacea asked.

I tried to lift myself up and then Panacea. It did not work. I shook my head.

"I think the PRT would actually categorize this as a Stranger power rather than a Changer one, since it doesn't help you fight," Panacea said.

"Have you timed it out yet?" Lady Photon asked.

I shook my head, embarrassed. "My centaur body is hard to fit in bathrooms, so I haven't dared to run my time limit dry in case I have an emergency, but I have a clear feeling of time counting down when I use it. The hour limit is just a guess, but I think it's pretty close." I had noticed the subconscious countdown timer the last time I had gone to the bathroom and was thankful that the power did give me a sense of how much time I had left or else I could see myself unintentionally running it dry to my embarrassment.

"The PRT would probably rate this ability as Stranger 2," Panacea commented. "If it weren't for the time limit and age limitations, the rating would be much higher. If the form you can take ages with you, they would probably up the threat rating when you become an adult, because changing into any 21-year-old woman is a lot more useful for infiltration than changing into any 16-year-old girl."

"Especially since a lot of women look about the same from about 18 to 30 and for some the range is even wider—especially with makeup," commented Laserdream.

"Can we test her Mover rating now?" Glory Girl asked excitedly.

Lady Photon looked at me and I nodded.

Glory Girl whooped and took to the air. "Race you!"

I smiled at her enthusiasm and also took to the air. Lady Photon rose beside us while Laserdream kept Pancea company on the ground.

"Okay," she said. "We know that the distance to Captain's Hill from here is ten miles in that direction." She pointed inland to the west. "Fly over the peak of it and come back here. I'll time you."

"Okay," I agreed.

"Ready. Set. Go!"

Glory Girl and I took off. I outpaced her, but not by a huge amount. I made it back to Lady Photon and Panacea in just over thirteen minutes, while Glory Girl took just over fifteen. The blonde complained good-naturedly about losing the race.

"Roughly 90 miles per hour," Lady Photon said after a quick calculation on her phone.

"Do your wings help you fly?" Panacea asked curiously.

"I think they might give me a boost in speed," I answered, "but they're most useful in helping me maneuver at high speed by giving me control surfaces with which to help me turn and brake. At low speed my power just pushes me in whatever direction I want to go."

She nodded thoughtfully.

"How many people can you carry with you and how does your ground speed compare?" asked Lady Photon.

"I've kept up in traffic where the posted speed was 45 miles per hour with no problem," I replied. "So fifty is pretty much a guarantee. I think I could almost manage my flying speed. With the way my powers affect my inertia, I don't think there's much difference between in the air and on the ground other than maneuverability. As far as numbers of people I can take with me go, twenty? Thirty? Maybe more? It's more limited by the number of people I can fit in my ten-foot radius sphere of control than anything."

Lady Photon quirked an eyebrow.

I shrugged. "My Shaker power is insanely strong within the limited volume I can control."

"Your Mover rating would probably be a 3 for your flight and high-speed running—maybe more depending on how well you can maneuver," Panacea said, "but the fact that you can carry so many people with you would probably bump it up to at least a 4."

"Can you describe your enhanced senses?" Lady Photon asked.

"Well, my sight, hearing, and smelling are all quite a bit better than they used to be. My eyes adjust their focus pretty well now, so that I can see things on the ground while I'm flying and I can read things at about three or four times the distance that I used to be able to when I was wearing my glasses. My hearing range is also about three to four times improved and is a lot more sensitive. I can discriminate smells a lot better now too, although I'm still identifying what's what. I also have an absolute sense of where everything is within my Shaker volume. My empathy is pretty sensitive, I think. I can pick up pretty fine nuances as to what people are feeling. The range on that is perhaps twice what my Shaker range is?"

"Can you tell when someone is lying?" Glory Girl asked curiously. The question made all four of my new teammates nervous—Panacea more than the other three.

"Not explicitly," I responded, "but I can tell when someone's being sincere and when their nervousness increases. I think with experience I could become a pretty good polygraph."

We did some testing of my senses. My vision was at least 20/5—being able to see at 20 feet what most people saw at 5—if not better. I could hear a whispered conversation at 20 feet. We could not think of a good smell test, so we skipped that. We decided to postpone exploring my telekinetic sense until we looked into my Shaker abilities. We tested out my ability to test lies by my teammates telling stories. It was actually pretty easy to figure out the falsehoods they added because they always "tensed up" emotionally before trying to slip something in.

"Your enhanced senses would probably earn you a Thinker rating of 1," Panacea said, "but the empathy probably makes it a 3, if only for the ability to act as a lie detector."

"Can we move onto the fun stuff now?" Glory Girl asked. "I want to test her Brute rating."

"Before we do," I said, "I noticed another aspect of my powers that I forgot to mention. Stuff doesn't stick to me. All the blood and trash from the locker just fell off me. I didn't even need to clean it off. I've also noticed that I don't have to dry off after a shower. The water just falls off me. That's a minor Breaker effect, right?"

"That's right," Panacea said. "It seems like a small thing, but it's probably at least Breaker 2 if it works with Containment Foam. That would also probably up your Brute rating because it makes you harder to control by standard Brute containment methods."

Glory Girl got a wicked smile on her face and said, "Be right back."

She flew off and was gone for about five minutes while we made some rough plans for my Brute and Shaker testing. She came back with a bucket of goopy mud.

"That's just mud, right?" I asked in trepidation.

"Yep," she said cheerfully as she tossed the contents of the bucket at me.

Reluctantly, I let it through and allowed it to hit my flank. However, it did not stick and quickly all dripped onto the ground, leaving my fur pristine white.

"Huh. I wonder if it works for dry stuff too?" she muttered.

She zipped off and returned with her bucket filled with dry dirt. She flung the contents at me again. This time at my front. The dirt just fell off me—including my shirt, which was a relief.

"Need to test something sticky next," she muttered.

"Enough, Vicky!" I exclaimed. "No more."

I scooped up some of the mud with my telekinesis and flung it at her. It hit her right in the chest.

"Hey!" she shouted. "Why the freak did you do that? It won't just slide off _me_."

I smirked. "Maybe I was tired of being a guinea pig."

"Really, Vicky?" Panacea said with a smirk. "'Freak?'"

"'Freak?'" Glory Girl repeated. "I meant to say 'fudge.' Wait! Why can't I swear?" She proceeded to emit a series of "fake cusses."

Laserdream giggled and Panacea smirked. Lady Photon frowned. "You really can't swear? It's not just a show for the unicorn?" asked Laserdream

The others all became serious then they looked at me.

"I'm not doing it," I protested. "At least not on purpose."

Panacea and Laserdream each tried to cuss, but only watered-down words came out of their mouths.

Lady Photon scowled at them. "Trying to use foul language is not acceptable behavior for heroes."

My mother the English professor had always said that casual use of foul language showed a lack of imagination and a small mind. She also said that it cheapened the impact that it could have in certain situations when it _was_ advantageous to swear. If someone like Dragon or Miss Militia started to swear, everyone paid attention because it was so unexpected. Someone like Skidmark, not so much. I tended to agree with my mother and not just because she was my mom. However, in the interest of scientific experimentation, I decided to give it a try. . . and found out that I could not even think of any. I had a sense of what Glory Girl meant when she said "freak" or "fudge," but could not recall the specific word, nor any of the words that Panacea and Laserdream were attempting to say. I frowned. This was the type of thing that I was becoming aware that Elmindra saw as a good prank. I sighed—at least it fit with my unicorn theme.

The others all looked at me.

"Do you have any insights, Alicorn?" Lady Photon asked.

"Err," I vocalized embarrassedly. "I tried to cuss, just to see if I could, but I can't think of any swear words to say, which is new."

"It stands to reason this is your fault, Miss Symbol-of-Purity," Panacea snarked.

Glory Girl giggled.

"Would this be considered a Master effect?" Laserdream asked hesitantly.

"It depends," Panacea said slowly. "If not being able to swear in her presence was the extent of it, in a Protectorate or allied cape, the PRT would probably roll it into her Shaker ability." Her emotions spiked, which caused me to notice a glance that she flicked over at her sister. "In a villain or rogue, they would probably rate it as Master 0."

"Why give someone a 0 rating?" I asked curiously.

"The PRT usually doesn't publish Threat Ratings," Lady Photon explained, "however, they do frequently publish power categories of villains in public warnings. Labeling someone a Master could be useful to discourage sympathy."

"That hardly seems fair," I said.

"Hey, they're villains," Glory Girl said. "Who cares if it's fair to them."

I frowned. Being fair was what made our judicial system work. Arbitrary punishments and curtailing of long-held rights were the primary reasons behind the American Revolution. My parents both railed on politicians who claimed to be "tough on crime" by proposing "zero tolerance" when what was really needed was to actually follow through on existing laws. As someone who had actually been punished for "making a scene" under "zero tolerance" rules while my bullies got away scot free, I realized that harsh rules were used as tools to hurt the innocent if the people implementing them were corrupt or lazy. If the people running things actually did their jobs and exercised good judgement, those types of policies weren't actually needed. Double standards offended my sense of justice, even if most of those punished by them were the bad guys.

"As for the 0 rating," Panacea added, "causing people not to be able to cuss is hardly threatening."

"Unless you're Skidmark," Laserdream offered. "I expect he would go into seizures if you took away his ability to be vulgar."

"How can we tell if that's the only Master effect she has?" asked Lady Photon.

"Almost all Master effects leave traces in the brain, which I can see, even if I can't change it," Panacea said. Her emotions were conflicted between guilt and resolve as she said that. "I can take Vicky until we're out of range and see if I can tell anything."

Left unspoken was the fact that some Masters left permanent changes to their victims.

"Let's try that to start," Lady Photon said.

Glory Girl and Panacea walked off hand in hand with Glory Girl muttering "fake" expletives under her breath. My enhanced hearing meant that I kept hearing her long after I would have. They kept going until they were perhaps two and half times farther than when I stopped hearing them. Of course, if they had been louder, my range would have been farther. Not long after they had stopped, Glory Girl scooped up Panacea and flew back with her.

"The good news is that it's not permanent," said Glory Girl as she set down her sister.

"And why would you need to swear at will, young lady?" asked her aunt with a scowl. "As a public hero, you're supposed to be setting an example for others."

Glory Girl looked sheepish, but did not offer up any excuses.

"The better news," said Panacea, "is that I can pinpoint the effect your powers have on the brain. It's small and it only appears to be active when someone actually attempts to swear within your 'anti-swearing zone.'"

"We aren't going to have any other problems with unicorn myths, are we?" asked Laserdream facetiously. "Men or non-virgins that touch you aren't going to get gored or struck down, are they?"

I rolled my eyes. I could not see Elmindra carrying the tropes in that direction. She was chaotic, but not mean. "I don't think so."

"Maybe her Breaker power is so that the blood doesn't stick to her when she gores the impure," suggested Glory Girl jokingly.

We all looked askance at her. She laughed sheepishly. "That was in poor taste, wasn't it?" she said.

We all nodded.

"Where'd you find the bucket?" I asked. I wanted to change the subject and I had been wondering about it.

Glory Girl shrugged and said, "There's trash all over this part of the Docks. I knew I'd find something if I looked hard enough." She grinned. "Should we see if your Brute package comes with super strength?"

I glanced at Lady Photon and she nodded.

Vicky led me to a place where some rebar was sticking out of some crumbling concrete. She grabbed a hold of a bar and twisted it back and forth quickly until metal fatigue caused it to break. She handed it to me.

Curiously I held it in my hand. I could tell that the rusted metal was rough, but gripping it did not tear at my skin. I said, "I can tell the metal is abrasive, but my skin seems to be protected."

"It's probably an unconscious use of your Shaker field," Panacea said. "Your biology did not have any indicators that you're physically tougher."

I nodded and grabbed the bar more firmly and easily bent it.

"Woohoo!" exclaimed Glory Girl. "Another full Alexandria Package like yours truly."

Alexandria was the archetype by which all flying Brutes were measured. She was super strong, super tough, and could fly super fast. She was also reported to be a fairly high-end Thinker, but for some reason that was not considered part of the "package" when applied to other parahumans.

"Like I said earlier, we would probably need to use the Protectorate facilities to get any accurate measure of your Brute abilities," Lady Photon said.

"Didn't you say they don't hand out ratings?" I asked her.

"They do if you come in for power testing," she answered. "Very few independents or other teams would do so if they didn't. Of course, if they later revise your ratings due to new data, they usually won't say. Let's move on to your Shaker abilities."

We found a spot that had lots of rubble and trash lying around. I picked all of it up that was within my range. My telekinetic sense told me that I was lifting 47 objects. I began to move them around in various patterns, making designs and then making new ones.

"That's truly impressive," Lady Photon commented. "You can move them independently?"

"I can," I said.

"What's your limit?" asked Laserdream.

"I haven't found it unless I try and control gases," I admitted.

Laserdream and Glory Girl moved around behind me and threw rocks at me, but as soon as they entered my telekinetic field, I stopped them and added them to the objects I was juggling.

After a bit, I spotted a dumpster across the street and walked toward it carrying my load. The lid was closed. I frowned as I concentrated my awareness on the edge of the lid and lifted. I smiled as the lid moved independently of the dumpster as a whole. I put the trash into the dumpster. I was not sure if the dumpster was still serviced, but at least it got the trash off the street. There was not enough room for the rocks and rubble in the dumpster, so I tossed them into a rocky field across the street.

"That field is outside your range, isn't it?" asked Lady Photon.

I had not really thought about it, but it was. I shrugged. "I added enough momentum to it before it left my control."

"How much momentum can you add?" asked Laserdream in morbid curiosity.

I picked up a screw that was on the ground by the dumpster and shot it at a sheet metal wall across the street. It punched through with a sharp crack. I gulped. I could have "charged" it more. I picked up a brick and threw it into a cinder block wall. The brick punched through the wall with a crash. The wall around the impact was cracked and looked like it might fall over.

"They might give you a Blaster rating just for your rail gun potential," Crystal said faintly.

"Certainly, if you used it like that," her mother said.

"I would need to practice before I used this strategy," I stated. "It has way too much potential for collateral damage and excessive force."

"That's a good idea," Lady Photon said emphatically. "Until then, only use it on Endbringers and other life or death situations."

"I honestly don't know what the PRT would rate your Shaker ability," Panacea admitted. "It's impressively strong within its range, but the range is relatively short. I can see, however, that with some preparation and imagination, you could do a lot with it."

"The ratings are a measure of threat," Lady Photon said. "The same raw abilities given to different people present differing amounts of danger. The rating for a lot of capes doesn't settle down until they are experienced with using their powers."

"That doesn't even consider that Brutes like us always get up close and personal," Glory Girl added, "so a short range is not that much of a hindrance."

"Do you want the Brute testing done at the PRT or the Protectorate facilities?" Lady Photon asked.

"Protectorate," I responded. "I was impressed when I talked to Miss Militia. I'm not saying anything bad about the PRT, but I wouldn't mind meeting her again."

Lady Photon looked pensive for a moment. "We should also warn them about your 'anti-swearing field' too. It would not be good if they found out without us telling them."

I frowned and then sighed. "Alright," I said. "I can see how that would be the case. Go ahead and warn them."


End file.
